


august

by brilliantminds



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28215798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brilliantminds/pseuds/brilliantminds
Summary: "i don't like you like that, eve""see," eve sighs, "that's where we disagree"or a college au where annalise is losing it and eve is just too perfect.
Relationships: Annalise Keating/Eve Rothlo
Kudos: 15





	august

**Author's Note:**

> hiii yall. so im not writing this in hopes of becoming on of those successful fic writers, hell no. im writing this bc i adore annalise and eve so much nd i wanna express that love through writing. pls dont judge me for this lol 
> 
> also this isn't supposed to be an accurate representation of anything. i guess i'm just using these characters as vessels to project my own experiences onto.
> 
> this chapter will touch on violent homophobia so read at ur own risk. stay safe, please! 
> 
> dedicated to kaye and ayanna. love u.

Annalise (Anna Mae) Harkness is 23 years old. A 1L at Harvard Law on numerous scholarships. She’s got a mom, a sister and a deadbeat dad she doesn’t like to talk about. 

She’s popular and aesthetically talented. She values her grades, all A’s and B’s (and one C in tax law, but it’s her weak spot). Most of her classmates and teachers adore her, and is a name highly recognised around campus. 

She’s smart, a genius, even, if being voted “most likely to end up in the White House” 4 years in a row is anything to go by- and probably will be again this year if she gets through it. 

So, Annalise is a lot of things. Talented, loved, admired.

But most of all, Annalise is afraid. 

Having grown up in small town Tennessee, she is no stranger to the hindered beliefs of past generations. She finds them on bumper stickers, yard signs and billboards, serving as a constant reminder that she isn’t welcome.

Look, Annalise knows that watching girls, and thinking about girls, and liking girls- _god_ liking girls as much as _she_ does- is reprehensible, according to the terms of the community in which she was raised. 

She’s heard where people like her go. She’s heard it so many times that she’s built a home out of the words - tall, dark, intimidating with no windows or doors. Only the words bouncing off the walls, wearing her skin thin. 

She hasn’t just heard it, no, she’s seen it, felt it. She watches the little tolerance unfold before her, the hatred, disappointment. She feels the burning inside her soul every time it happens, not to her but to others, because they are her. 

They are. 

There are the brave ones though, the ones who pluck up the strength to unashamedly come out and embrace themselves. They’ve found the courage unknown to Annalise to come out and face the hatred that her community offers to anyone who is remotely different. 

She often wonders how they do it. How they get out of bed every morning and face the words and beatings that come. How they don’t fall apart when jarring insults are made by not only immature teens, but adults. 

What she can’t decipher, though, is whether she’s more ashamed of the fact that she’s gay, or more ashamed that she isn’t as brave as the others. She’s overcome all of the other obstacles in her life thus far, so why not this? She doesn’t know. 

She just knows it‘s there, heavy like a brick in her chest. It’s the contempt that’s going to tug her under the billowing sea. It’s the living in a shell of her beloved exterior that’s never going to reach the surface. 

She is drowning, hell, she’s already at the bottom. 

* * *

_“i can see us twisted in bedsheets; august slipped away like a bottle of wine, cause you were never mine.”_

August was when the air was humid. The sun was a bright yellow ball in the sky and the heat made Annalise miserable. Allergies were running rampant as were the out-of-school kids and dogs off their leashes. And there were daisies. So many daisies . 

There’s a girl in August. 

A girl of peachy warmth and soft, milky skin. The sun sets later during the summer, the skies always painted with clouds, of pinks and reds, love and warmth and so much heartache. God, the girl was all Annalise could think about. 

With her sweet summer love, gentle nectarine touch. 

She’s tall, long raven locks falling all the way down her shoulders and back. Her eyes are the hue of new spring growth, bright and soft all at once. When she smiles her cheeks dimple, and when she laughs it bellows out of her like happiness.

_Happiness._

Like blanket forts, like splashing in the stream, like games of make-believe. Apple slices, swing sets, licking honey off fingertips. 

Annalise decided to go out for drinks at her local bar. The girl she watches works there.

The girl, with her hair pulled back in a bun, was clad in a little black dress, straps dipping down over her delicate looking collarbones, revealing the slightest cleavage, covering her perky bum. Annalise’s mouth went dry thinking about licking the sweat off the girls collarbones, her neck. She pondered on whether in the summer, her skin tasted any different. Sweeter, perhaps? Or warmer?

(She has vague memories of blushing, looking around to make sure no one could read her thoughts. She likes girls so much that she’s afraid someone will notice.) 

The girl was smiling as she dealt out drinks to a group of men, who, by the looks of it, were already drunk. Annalise could faintly hear the girls low hum from where she was sitting.

Annalise remembers one of the men asking the girl whether she was free that night. 

"Honestly, men aren't typically my type." 

Her nose wrinkled up as she said it, stacking the menus in her hands before hurrying away. 

The man looked back at her, eyebrows furrowing "Fucking dyke bitch. Give me a call when you wanna add a penis to the mix again." 

She doesn't think the girl heard.

Annalise's blood boils over, fists clenched. God, just thinking about that day, that moment, gets her fucking enraged. 

_She remembers the girl as she was paying for her food._

Her smile and how sweet it was. The bashful blush that beamed from her cheeks. So soft, so pretty. She blinked her big doe eyes, bit her lip and said with the most tender enthusiasm "Hi, Annalise." 

And Annalise remembers herself. Rigid, trembling, her heart pounding. When she slid the money onto the counter for the girl to take, it was done stiffly "Uh, hey." 

(She remembers the girls soft lips. Hot, wet. The bathroom. Being pressed against her) 

"Just the drinks today?" She asked. So gentle. She was so gentle with everything, everyone, like she knew that human hearts were fragile things. 

_Intelligent,_

"Yeah" She answered. Swallowed. Looked away. Her hands twitched. 

When she looked back, the girl was busy ringing her up. She was biting the inside of her cheek, her eyebrows lined. No smile.

* * *

(Annalise hated herself so much that day. 

Annalise hated everyone in the whole damn world that day, too.

Everyone but her, the girl. 

_Eve.)_

* * *

When she handed the change back their fingers brushed and Annalise flinched from the simple touch. 

(Her heart races just thinking about that moment.)

She blinked. Jaw locked. She shoved the money deep into her coat pocket, along with her _"I"m sorry_ " and _"I think about you every day"_ and _"I think I love you"_ turning on her heels with burning cheeks.   
  


"Have a nice day, Annalise" She heard softly behind her, sad and hesitant, full of heartbreak and broken promises. 

Annalise didn't reply, sobs racking up in her throat. 

The only evidence of that day are the makeup stains on Annalise's pillow 

Her body is overwhelmed. Shaking. Shaking. She starts to shake just thinking about it. How fucking evil people are. How weak she is. How much of a fucking coward. 

It's August when Annalise starts thinking about how much she doesn't want to live. 

* * *

The downfall of Annalise began in October, 1990. 

Raven hair. Green eyes. Eve Rothlo.

It was Halloween. Annalise thought it would be easy to dress up as a greaser- so that she did, along with a few of her best mates, who were -- somewhere that night. She vaguely recalls them catching the eyes of two older looking boys.

She also remembers the contempt and bitterness she held for herself, angry _she_ couldn't just like guys too.

But then she saw her. And all of those thoughts disappeared as if like magic. 

Eve was dressed up as Minnie Mouse. Black mouse ears, a red button-up bodysuit with white dots, fishnet stockings. And, of course, a pretty red bow in her hair to match. 

And it was confusing for Annalise at the time because Annalise _knew_ Eve. Saw her on campus everyday, in class, even. But she never once felt like she _liked_ her? 

Eve was an enigma though, really. Popular, yes, but she was also that girl who would sit in the library by herself, rather than with her study group. She would lay in the grass during her breaks to stare at the sky. The girl who hung out with herself, but was still so happy.

Annalise remembers that when they got paired up for a group assignment she was concerned. Maybe even a little freaked out because she hadn't figured Eve out yet. Even more so, Annalise remembers feeling intimidated. 

Intimated because by the end of the project, she had discovered that Eve was actually extremely intelligent. Intelligent and completely herself and _happy_ but never too loud about it. She was someone who could own the world but never boast about it. So painfully humble.

She was like a flower, something bashful yet vibrant. Something beautiful, something that demands to be looked at, but does so quietly. It blooms with all it's colors and petals and beauty, but it doesn't yell at you about how lovely it is, no, it instead lets you notice it yourself.

After that, Annalise would smile at Eve from across the lecture theatre each day, maybe even mouth a “hey”, but that was the extent of it. She admired Eve a bit, maybe even felt inspired by her in some way. But she never put much thought to her – consciously, anyway. 

But in that moment, she had never felt more compelled to get to know someone, to touch someone. 

Sure, she remembered appreciating Eve's physical aesthetics, as she did all the other girls who grew incredibly attractive over the years. But that was it, there was never any secret crush or anything, not that Annalise knew of, anyway. 

So suddenly, at the age of 24 and at a Halloween party where Eve is the only thing she manages to see in a crowded room, it's weird. Weird because of the powerful emotion she felt toward her - like she was all Annalise ever wanted. Ever needed. 

That night, when she and Eve bumped hands both reaching out for the last of the Riesling. Annalise laughed, remembering thinking, _who the fuck drinks fine wine at a party full of 20-somethings?_

Pretty, overwhelming Eve, who Annalise had just realised she may or may not have underlying feelings for. That's who. 

"You can have it." Annalise said so sweet, maybe even a little shy

Eve's eyes twinkled. So much love, hope and admiration "We can share it" 

Annalise grinned, stomach filled with butterflies that seemed to get stuck in her throat on the way out. But looking into those green eyes made her forget how to form a coherent sentence, how to properly function. All she could think about was how _of fucking course Eve would say something like that_ , offer to share a drink, like _God._ She gives, gives, gives, and rarely takes. 

Eve seemed to understand, seemed to know what Annalise was thinking, or feeling - something. She was scarily intuitive, scarily perceiving. Annalise felt as if Eve could see straight into her soul. 

If that truly were the case, then Annalise was happy. Because in that moment Eve saw everything Annalise was and still decided to take hold of her leather jacket and pull her out of the kitchen. 

**Author's Note:**

> this piece is heavily inspired by wankerville's 'hush' - and i take no credit for what they've so wonderfully written.


End file.
